Bai Zihan stood tall amid the battlefield, his torn robes fluttering in the wind, one hand gripping Zhao Yue like a discarded rag doll.
Li Xuan lay crippled behind him, bloodied and groaning in pain.
He looked at the battlefield.
Although his father had an advantage, the same could not be said for the other elders, who were suffering at the hands of the Li-Zhao Alliance.
(Would threatening them work?)
If one were to look logically, Li Xuan and Zhao Yue’s value wasn’t enough to stop something like a battle for the Immortal Emperor’s Inheritance.
But they weren’t something that the two Clan Leaders could ignore either.
(Anyway, I would lose nothing by trying.)
The wind carried his voice—sharp and clear, amplified by Qi.
“Li Jianhong! Zhao Wutian!”
He called, of course without respect, addressing them by name.
They naturally paid attention to him when he called them out.
“Tsk! Trash!”
Li Jianhong said as he saw Li Xuan, who was sent to capture Bai Zihan, only to be captured himself.
On the other hand, Zhao Wutian was analyzing the situation and already knew what was going to happen.
It was exactly what they were planning—just that it was Bai Zihan doing it instead of them.
“I’ll say it once. Withdraw your forces. Tell your elders to fall back, leave Bai Clan territory, and never set foot here again.”
Bai Zihan demanded.
He tightened his grip on Zhao Yue’s arm. She winced, but neither of the two leaders budged.
By then, Bai Tianheng had also stopped fighting to see what his son was planning.
For a moment, they stared in silence—then Li Jianhong scoffed.
“You think capturing a few juniors will force us to stop?”
“Don’t overestimate their worth. They’re talented, yes—but in the face of an Immortal Inheritance, their lives are just pawns to be sacrificed. It is their mistake for being captured in the first place.”
Li Jianhong said, showing no intention of stopping what they had started.
Li Xuan felt all his hope disappearing as soon as he heard those words.
Well, that was expected. Li Jianhong didn’t even bat an eye when Bai Zihan killed his son, Li Feng.
Zhao Wutian was the same but didn’t say it outright for some reason.
“NOOO!”
However, a Cry rang out—from within the Zhao ranks.
One of the Zhao Clan’s elders, mid-strike, turned his head sharply, eyes locking onto Zhao Yue’s figure being held like a rag doll.
“Yue’er…!”
The cry was raw, almost animalistic, filled with fear and fury.
It came from Elder Zhao Jian, one of the Zhao Clan’s most influential figures—and Zhao Yue’s father.
His hands trembled.
“Clan Leader!”
Elder Zhao Jian’s voice rang out, laced with urgency and barely concealed panic.
“That’s Yue’er—my daughter! She’s been captured!”
His tone was controlled, but the desperation beneath was clear to anyone listening.
Zhao Wutian’s body stiffened mid-air as the cry echoed over the battlefield, sharp and heavy with pressure.
He couldn’t give up—because that would mean letting go of the Immortal Emperor’s Inheritance.
And who knew what would happen if they let Bai Xinyue grow up?
Their whole Zhao Clan might be in danger.
Moreover, the damage to their reputation if they were to retreat would be immense.
But could he ignore Zhao Yue?
Not with Zhao Jian being here.
He was one of the most influential elders of the Zhao Clan, and also someone who supported him.
Losing that would mean that his political opponents might take advantage of it—and he might even lose one of his most trusted elders and earn distrust from his supporters.
Choosing to retreat and abandon their objective for the sake of Zhao Yue’s life would invite scorn and raise questions about his capability as Clan Leader—someone who let go of what might have been the Zhao Clan’s greatest opportunity.
Around him, other Zhao Clan elders glanced his way.
They didn’t speak either—but their gazes were sharp, questioning.
Waiting.
Not accusing. Not yet.
But whether Zhao Wutian chose to ignore it or not… the questions would come. The doubts. The whispers.
Either way, it wasn’t going to be good for him.
Meanwhile, from the Li Clan’s side, another elder looked down at Li Xuan, still groaning and convulsing in the dirt.
“Xuan’er…”
The old man whispered, clutching his halberd tight.
However, unlike Zhao Jian, he wasn’t a significant elder in the Li Clan.
Moreover, Li Jianhong didn’t really have any opponents in the Li Clan challenging him either.
So, his decision wasn’t something that others could easily change.
Since he had already declared that he wasn’t going to stop, even with Bai Zihan threatening the life of Li Xuan, he meant it.
His decision wasn’t wrong either—because letting Bai Xinyue go would be an existential threat to their clan.
Moreover, although Li Jianhong didn’t show it, he knew that Li Jianhong must be pretty angry about Bai Zihan killing Li Feng and would definitely want to take revenge.
Zhao Wutian’s eyes flickered.
He didn’t respond to Elder Zhao Jian immediately. He didn’t even look back.
Instead, his gaze slid toward Li Jianhong—cold, calculating.
(He won’t retreat.)
Zhao Wutian knew Li Jianhong well enough. Prideful, ruthless, and unbending once he made a move.
Even if he himself chose to withdraw, it would make little difference.
The attack would continue, the war would go on—and the loss of face would be his alone to bear.
He would be labeled the coward.
Li Jianhong? He’d spin it to his benefit and keep advancing like nothing happened.
(If I back down alone… I’ll be the one blamed for failure.)
Zhao Wutian clicked his tongue silently and lowered the hand that had started to rise slightly.
He made a decision.
Do nothing.
Let the situation develop—and if Zhao Yue died, if the elders lashed out in outrage… well, the one who refused to retreat was Li Jianhong.
He could push the blame onto him.
That old bastard had already drawn his line in the sand—Zhao Wutian would simply pretend to follow it… for now.
And if needed, he could later say he tried to negotiate, but Li Jianhong didn’t listen.